


A Small Earthquake

by Cliophilyra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker, Fluff, M/M, powercut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 12:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliophilyra/pseuds/Cliophilyra
Summary: A powercut in the bunker leads to some questions being asked, and answered.





	A Small Earthquake

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I just found on my phone that I had clearly written and not posted. I originally planned for it to be longer but I think I like it as it is.

Cas is in the middle of a two day continuous Netflix binge when the power goes out. The TV just suddenly goes dead, the lights go out and he's left sitting on his small bed in the sudden, silent darkness. The silence only lasts for a few seconds as Dean's voice almost immediately echoes down the corridor, a familiar edge of worry, getting closer fast.

"Cas! You ok buddy?"

Cas gets up slowly, blinking in the sudden darkness. He debates for a moment just calling out that he's ok but instead he opens his door and looks out into the hall. It's just as dark as his room. A warm orange glow approaches, it is Dean, holding his Zippo aloft, the flame reflecting off the shiny tiles. Not having any windows or even much in the way of skylights, the darkness in the unlit bunker is almost total apart from this small pool of light.

Dean looks relieved when he sees him, puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles. They haven't seen much of each other for a few days. Sam is away, "helping" Eileen the hunter they met on the Banshee case. The air quotes are entirely Dean's. He ragged on his brother for a week when he said he was going to meet her but Cas thinks he's secretly pleased for Sam.

This means that Cas and Dean have the bunker to themselves. This is a problem because they apparently have no idea how to act around each other anymore. Their relationship is complicated and inexplicable these days. Cas can't help Dean hunt, his tattered and damaged grace is of no use to anyone. So he hides in his small room and watches endless episodes of TV shows he instantly forgets.

"What happened?" Cas asks, scrubbing at his screen-tired eyes.

"Fuck knows, I was in the kitchen getting a beer and it all just went phutt--" Dean mimes a small explosion, "Looks like the whole place has just run out of juice."

"Is it the same outside?"

"Haven't looked, I'll go stick my head out now. Powercuts don't usually affect this place though. I just figured it ran on fucking magic or something."

Cas nods, he had pretty much assumed the same thing. "Perhaps there is some spell or ritual that needs to be renewed?" he wonders aloud.

Dean nods thoughtfully. "Yeah that would kinda make sense...There's been no one here who knows how this place is supposed to work for decades. It's probably overdue to start falling apart," he peers into the shadows, "So how the fuck do we figure out how to fix it?"

Cas shrugs. "I guess you'll have to try and find the source of the power."

"I'm gonna need some help here Cas, c'mon." Dean starts off back the way he came. Cas stands and watches him. He really just wants to go back into his room. What does he know about electricity and how the bunker works? He'll just be in the way as usual.

"Cas! Get a move on!" Dean calls. With a deep sigh Cas follows his light in the darkness.

***

They make their way back to the war-room, which is shrouded in the same pitch blackness. Dean holds up the lighter, casting huge, flickering shadows on the pale walls. He flicks various switches on the walls but nothing shows any sign of life. The bunker is completely silent. He jogs up the steps to the door and turns the handle. Nothing happens.

"Shit."

"What?"

"The door's on the fritz too. Guess the locks run on the same power."

"Oh dear." Cas doesn't know what else to say.

Dean comes back down the steps. "Yeah, oh dear," he agrees dryly.

Cas looks around the room. "Where did you turn on the power when you first came here? Or was it already on?"

Dean shakes his head and points to a large red throw switch on the wall. "No it was off, til I threw that switch."

Cas goes over to the switch, it's still in the up position. He pulls and pushes it experimentally but nothing happens.

"Yeah I tried that," Dean says, not unkindly.

Cas shrugs, out of ideas.

"Can you, I don't know...feel...any power coming from anywhere here? Like, sense it or something?" Dean asks, awkwardly.

Cas pauses, he can't place anything particular. Not that he necessarily could with his grace this battered. He shakes his head sadly.

"Can't you sense anything?"

"No. It feels dead."

"Does it usually feel dead?"

"No."

"So what's different?"

Cas tilts his head to the side, closes his eyes and tries to focus. There used to be a heart to the place. He didn't notice it before because it was always there. Now it feels cold.

He is moving before he realises it and Dean is following him. He walks through the rooms and corridors until they stop outside an unmarked door. He pushes it, it creaks loudly and opens into a small room, almost a closet, with a hugely elaborate sigil painted on the floor. It is, or was, a spell for perpetual renewal. Very old and beautifully crafted. However there is now a break in it - one of the swirling lines on the floor is scuffed, it looks very much as if someone had dragged a knife across it.

Cas takes the lighter from Dean and kneels down to examine the markings. He runs a finger lightly over one line and raises it, squinting, sniffing experimentally.

"Frankincense," he pronounces, getting to his feet again, "and sandalwood, and blood."

Dean grins. "Knew there was a reason we kept you around."

Cas doesn't smile. Dean looks at the floor.

“Why did you do this?” Cas asks.

Dean can't even manage to feign confusion, his eyes flick up to Cas’s and then back to the floor. “Because I wanted to get you out of that fucking room,” he says quietly, “You've been holed up in there for ages. It's ridiculous. I—“

"Do you have the ingredients to repair it?" Cas asks sharply, holding the lighter out for him to take back.

Dean nods and then looks up, staring straight at Cas over the tiny flame. Deep shadows dance over his face, his features are cast into sharp relief. He suddenly looks very tired.

"What's wrong Cas?" he asks.

Cas opens his mouth to say, "Nothing," but instead he says, "Why do you keep me around?"

They stare at each other in silence for a moment, both equally surprised by the question. Then Dean lets out a rush of breath and says, "Because you're family Cas."

Cas rolls his eyes, he's heard that before but he doesn't understand what it is supposed to mean. He says as much and Dean looks uncomfortable, glancing down at his feet and up again.

"Well, y'know...you...you're..." he trails off.

Cas looks at him sadly. "Useful?"

Dean looks angry. "No! I mean...yes...you are useful but that's not why we...I...want you here. You're our friend Cas. My friend. I...like having you around."

"Why?"

"I dunno man! Because I do. Why do I have to have a reason?"

"Because you said those things before - and then you told me to go."

They look at each other, at the flame reflected in each other's eyes until Dean turns and walks out of the room. Cas stands in the inky dark and looks after him.

***

Dean is sitting on one of the old couches in the room which was the library but has become, for all intents and purposes, the living room. The Zippo stands on the end table by his side, the flame guttering in some unnoticed breeze, causing huge shadows to crawl over the walls. His gaze is fixed on it’s small halo of warmth and light.

Cas watches him from the doorway, he stares unseeing, sight turned inward. Cas feels his chest tighten. His skin tingles as he watches Dean. He wants - more than he has ever wanted anything as long as he can remember - to touch him.

He has a handful of candles in holders that he found in one of the old supply closets. After a moment he moves into the room and begins to arrange them on the tables and least flammable-looking shelves around the room, he picks up the lighter from the end table, leaving Dean in darkness and methodically lights all the candles.

"Don't leave Cas," Dean's voice emerges from the quiet.

"I don't want to," he answers, continuing to light the candles.

"I don't want you too. Having you here, it's...it's everything I want man. You here, Sam here, all of us together. It's the closest I've been to home for fucking ever man. I know I don't deserve it but somehow I've got it and I'm so fucking scared. I'm so afraid that I'll wake up one morning and you'll be gone."

"Why?" Cas asks quietly, "I've been gone many times before. Why does it matter now?"

"Because I finally figured it out. I finally get it and I have no idea how to say it, but as long as you're here I still have time. I don't have to say it today, there's always tomorrow."

Cas walks over to the couch, bathed in faint, yellowish light. He sits next to Dean and looks at his face, half in darkness, half out. His expression is unreadable.

"I love you."

Dean says nothing, he is still as marble. Then he shivers abruptly, the temperature has dropped rapidly, another thing affected by the failed spell. Although that may not be the cause of this shiver. After a moment he lets out a huff of stifled laughter.

"I love you too Cas." There is a small pause, "Well that was easier than I thought. Feels kinda anti-climatic."

"Were you expecting fire and brimstone?"

"Maybe. Maybe a small earthquake."

 

 


End file.
